


Headlights

by Greensilver (Trelkez)



Category: Merlin (BBC)
Genre: Alternate Reality, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-02-14
Updated: 2009-02-14
Packaged: 2017-10-03 01:06:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trelkez/pseuds/Greensilver
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"She was worth a stare. She was trouble." -- The Big Sleep</p>
            </blockquote>





	Headlights

**Author's Note:**

> Written for sweetestdrain on Valentine's Day.

There's a woman perched on the edge of Arthur's desk. She's little more than a silhouette in his unlit office; now and then the headlights of a passing car will break through the blinds and stacked lines of light will crawl across her long, dark hair and long, pale legs, but she's mostly left in shadow, a dark shape in a dark room.

Merlin sits with his feet kicked up onto his desk and watches her, not bothering to be subtle about it. He stares, tapping a pencil against his knee in a slow, absent rhythm, the daily crossword half-forgotten on his lap.

She's watching him, too, this mysterious woman in Arthur's office; he can feel her eyes on him, even when he can't see them shining in headlights, a deep, cold blue.

The better part of an hour passes before Arthur shows up, talking at Merlin a hundred miles a minute before Merlin can so much as say, _by the way, there's a woman in your office, an evil one -- call it a hunch. _

"--Le Fay again, and she tried to have me barred from the scene by implying our license had expired, the wretch," as he shrugs out of his trenchcoat and tosses it over a hook on the coat rack. "Can you believe the nerve of -- Merlin, are you _listening?_"

Absent the neck-to-knee armor of his coat, Arthur looks vaguely disreputable, his clothes wrinkled and loose. He has his stupid fedora pulled low over his eyes, and the brim casts most of his face in shadow, leaving visible only the tolerantly amused curve of his smile.

"This is important information, Merlin," Arthur says, reaching up to further loosen his tie as he steps into his office and fumbles about for the light switch. "I'm not just telling you for the sake of my -- who are _you?_" Arthur clears his throat, tries again. This time, he sounds less startled and more flirtatious, and Merlin can't really blame him: in full light, she's beautiful, albeit in a cold, hard way Merlin doesn't like. "_Who_ are _you?_"

"My name is Nimueh," she says, her voice artfully trembling, "and I need your help."

"We charge for our help," Merlin calls from the outer office, just in case Arthur is tempted to conveniently leave that part out for now.

"Don't mind Merlin -- he was raised in a barn," Arthur says, offering Nimueh a glass of water.

Nimueh looks at Arthur the way Arthur looks at particularly tasty cuts of steak, and Merlin sighs, fumbling for the crossword as he slides down further in his chair.

That this isn't going to end well is a foregone conclusion; Merlin just hopes he'll still want to say _I knew it _when the dust settles.


End file.
